Blank.
The screen. The canvas. Life. It's all blank.
Filling myself with the need to do other things never lasts for long. Telling myself that if i just throw myself completely into my dream then i can forget about the feeling of being empty... It's slowly becoming less believable.
What dream? What did i want to accomplish so badly? Knowing that if i work hard, the results i want will come, isn't enough. I don't know what results i want. I'm still so undecided about things. The dream that i had wanted since i was young, many said was unrealistic and out of reach. Doing the things i love, like writing, singing, dancing and anything even remotely creative was all unrealistic in their eyes. It was no longer a case of what i wanted to do. It was no longer my decision. What dream?
I made my living off of making others happy when i was the one truly crumbling inside. "I'm dying on the inside" I would say. Crying out for help that even i myself had forgotten that i needed. I'd hidden what i wanted. I'd hidden what made me deeply happy, and chose to make others happy instead. I'd pushed my own thoughts and feelings, my morals and desires so far down into the subconscious of my mind that when i cried by myself i wouldn't even know the reason for my tears.
Can anybody hear? Are my words not getting through? When the happy tone is taken away the cruel words are still the same. Do you really not notice? Am i that good an actor? Or do you really not care.
That was it.
I'd felt so alone. So alone that when i found somebody all i wanted to do was open up to them. My mind was so confused back then. I wanted to scream out at him when he'd asked what was wrong because i, myself never knew the answer. I wanted to tell him my entirety, but not even i could remember what that was.
"Maybe i had said, something that was wrong."
The song, Shelter, spoke in volumes to a small mind like mine. It reached out and latched onto my heart, squeezing it so hard that tears fell from my eyes like acid. By that point, I'd said so much wrong in my lifetime that even i found it hard to distinguish between the truth and the lies.
"Can i make it better, with the lights turned on?"
Even now, when i hear or read the words, i scoff. To be in a relationship with someone who cares more about physical attachment than emotional didn't work for someone like me. No matter how much i loved him, i still felt disgusted. No matter how much i wanted to trust him with my secrets, not being able to distinguish them lead to a downward spiral. The lack of emotional connection and understanding only lead me to one conclusion. It wouldn't work.
When given time outside of the relationship for the second time, i had more time to think. I may have loved him. I may still even love him now. But if that was love... I'd rather live with this gaping hole in my heart for the rest of my life.
My distorted unconscious got so jumbled that even my mind had enough and decided to give me something, or rather, someone to help me realise why i was hurting so much.
You gain imaginary friends at a young age, but being a teen made everything seem strange. She'd helped me. She was the me that knew everything about myself. Everything that i hadn't understood, everything i'd buried deep down. She was like my own personal therapist. I loved her as if she was a part of myself, and she was. There would be times when i could feel her take over. Still conscience i could see what i was doing, but i just let my fingers move. Let the text messages flow. Let my Id out.
It was as if my mind knew that this was the right thing to do and even began to form a backstory with the two of us.
Because she was me, she also had a boyfriend. Her life embodied everything i felt about mine.
The quiet, yet perverted boyfriend that she had control over, was the same one that i selfishly thought i could control.
The semi-abusive brother that was always ether drunk or high, was my own sister, that i barely spoke to unless there was an argument.
The caring mother, whom was always in hospital due to the fathers aggressive behaviour, was my own mother. I'd barely ever see her because she was busy with work, but when i did, it always made me happy.
The abusive father who was always drunk, was my own father. My father has never beat me physically, but he did more emotional damage than anything else. Being the reason behind me suppressing my own desires and only helping others. Being the reason that i'd closed my inner emotions off from the world. Being the reason for my confused existence. To tell a small child that everything she wanted to do, to be in life, was unattainable. To tell Her what she should become to make a living. It could make anyone feel unimportant.
And her. The girl whom, when i'd figured out the root of my problems, was killed, taking with her my cause for confusion. The Kuro Pixie.
She was only a part of my subconscious that came to fruition.
I know that i lied to you. I know that i've played with your emotions through my stupid excuse for a life. I know that what i did was wrong. But at the same time, i can't apologise.
I can't apologise because i know that given the opportunity me and my selfish self would do it all over again.
To be able to unlock the root of the problems in your mind, is to be able to become you're true self. My true self is not a liar, but my past self was. My past self had decided that to keep all of my desires hidden, i would have to lie over them.
I'm not asking for you to forgive me. I'm not asking for you to ignore this. I'm just asking that you can take my lie into consideration.
Those, if any, who decide to stay with my account, i want them to know that i know I've lied, but i am trying to better myself.
Any of you can unfollow me. I don't mind if i have zero followers after people read this. I just wanted to share the truth.
Loyalty. Honesty. Generosity. Laughter and Kindness don't grow on trees...
I know because i haven't been honest with you all. I haven't remained loyal by the sides of all the friends i've made since creating a Wattpad account. I know because for at least the past 12 years of my life, i've found it a chore to laugh with others, to be kind and generous.
It's fine for you to hate me. I hate me too.
I'll try to finish the stories you guys were waiting on, then/or ill just upload the plot route that i was going to take with each of them.
Anyone can take the idea and write their own story.
But after that...
I guess it's time to say goodbye.
~Rynea10
